On January 8, 2009 my world became a lesser place, a more uncertain place, one less homing beacon, a place with one less lighthouse, one less guiding star for this unique journey which is life; a place where the compass no longer always points to true north. My world lost my closest friend, my brother, James Thompson Riffe (Tom).

Tom was 7 years my senior.

This being said, we weren't very close growing up. When he went to West Point and my sister Beckie, 8 years my senior, went to college I was, for all intents and purposes, an only child ( which, by the way, did have it's advantages).

Before then, at meal times, the family would gather around the table for what is now considered an old fashioned meal where the family was actually there together.

The family would trade stories of the day, what went on at work, school, Tom's football, basketball or track practice, Beckie’s cheerleading or tennis practice.

Meanwhile, being much younger, I would sit and soak some of it in and just sit for the parts that I didn't understand. To me these carefree times are remembered as very warm, full of laughter and love, as was my childhood.

My earliest recollections of my brother were those of hunting with my father, Tom and my maternal grandfather (Hobart wood, papaw).

Dad used a .22 bolt action, they gave me a .22/.410 over and under, and Tom had the family Winchester 12 gauge pump gun, which was his favorite.

There was the time we were hunting squirrel on “Corn Bread Ridge” when dad had placed me, gone to his spot and Tom had gone to his.

After a bit dad came to check on me and while we were talking we heard 7 shotgun blasts in quick succession coming from Tom’s location.

When we met up with Tom, we found him, a squirrel tail and a bit of fur. It seemed that a squirrel had presented itself to Tom. Tom fired, hit the squirrel, the squirrel was moved by the hit and before it came to rest, Tom had cycled the weapon and fired again. This reoccurred until Tom exhausted his ammunition. He was shooting the (or what was left of the) squirrel faster than the squirrel could fall.

          Note for the hunting novitiate:
          Tom thought the squirrel was running when in fact it was being moved on by his
          shots. (Tom could shoot a pump shotgun as fast or faster than an automatic,
          he was truly “one” with his weapon).

Tom was the shooter in the family while I was described by a training NCO as a “Sneaky Bastard”.

Tom was a very good student and athlete. I, on the other hand, was less than acadenically stellar and was following a path to being a musician.

There were times after parent teacher conferences when teachers who had Tom would look at me and say “if I had known you were Tom Riffe’s brother, I would have expected more”

To me this was a flag to drop the throttle and excel at under-achievement.

Let it be known that I never got this feeling from Tom or any other member of my family.

ONE and only one time our folks said to me “Tom did so well”.

Tom was in the house at the time and immediately came to my defense.

          Note:
          The quickest way to get a Riffe to NOT do something it to say “you have to”
          Later in life I would say … “Tom is the West Point banker and I am the
          road rat musician”

In his senior year of high school someone suggested he apply to West Point.

Tom figured he didn't have much of a chance so he applied. Well, my mom worked at a local college where, as part of her work with foreign students, she interacted with many of the state legislators. He never admitted it, but I think he was, shall we say, surprised when he got his letter of acceptance.

While Tom was at West Point, mom, dad and I visited a couple of times. As a high school boy who had watched too many John Wayne movies, I completely ate it up. Upon our first meeting, I ran up to hug my brother not realizing that I had just scuffed his immaculately spit shined shoes. With this he was not pleased but did not show it to me very much. Later when I was in the military I realized that I deserved a big kick in the butt.

His stay at West Point was during the Viet Nam war.

Like everyone else in “The World” we watched the NBC News ("Good night David. Good Night Chet and good night for NBC News") and heard the day’s body count. Being the young boy I was, this meant very little to me. I was more interested in the footage of the battles. I watched Huey’s on dust off missions, gunships lighting up the jungle and heroic men acting in heroic ways -American warrior acts.

It never sank in where my brother could be heading.

During Tom’s second year at West Point, he decided that this was not what he wanted to do. As I understand it he had a low draft number so the war was still a possibility.

At this time, mom and dad got an invitation from one of Tom’s officers, a Major if I recall, to come and visit.

We arrived at West Point and did the usual family things. We toured the museum; I played on the field pieces overlooking the Hudson, looked at the many places Washington supposedly stood when he established the academy, and we generally walked around and said “WOW”.

That evening we arrived at the Major’s quarters. We were greeted by the Major and his wife, were introduced to his child and were invited to the living room. The wife offered our parents a drink, offered them wine, and finally the Major let his wife know that our parents did not drink. Looking back, I imagine that she considered that a faux-pas. Our parents thought little of it.

After dinner ,the Major explained that he processed the requests for separation until he got to Tom’s and stopped. The next day another stack of requests would reach his desk and he would process the requests for separation until he got to Tom’s and stop. He indicated That tom ws a very god cadet and he didn't wand the academy to loose him.

(I don’t know what conversations took place between Tom and our parents). Our parents explained that this was Tom’s decision. At the end of his second year, Tom ended his “experience” at West Point.

          Note: It is my understanding that if you walk through the gate for your third year
          you are obligated for the rest of your commitment.

While Tom had always had a strong sense of right and wrong, his experiences at West Point and the friends he made there seemed to galvanize this and would influence the remainder of his life.

To Tom there was no grey, only black and white, only right and wrong.

          Note:           West Pointers are known as “the cream of the crop”. Tom always referred to himself, jokingly, as “the cream of the crop gone sour”

When Tom returned from West Point, to fill in the time, he took a job as security at a construction site that was building a tunnel through a mountain for an interstate.

One day we went to see him on the job site. While we were there he saw someone (a gentleman and a young lady) entering the tunnel site. Tom excused himself and went to ask the folks to leave. The gentleman told him that he was a prominent politician from the area. Tom explained that he knew this and they would still have to leave. We found a bit of humor in this.

Tom then worked in the coal mines for a while and then landed in banking. This was evidently where fate had intended him to be.

Over the years, Tom proved himself a good manager (leader) and an asset to whatever organization to which he belonged.

While at a small bank, he moved up and helped the bank gain regional, state and national recognition. While at this bank, he was elected to national banking organization positions and gained the respect of his organization, co-workers and peers being known as one of those folks that “If you didn’t want an honest answer, you better not ask the question” and one of the best friends you could have.

During this time he was blessed with a beautiful daughter and a wonderful son.

The Kids

While Tom maintained his job responsibilities, he maintained very close ties with his children. He was always at their sporting events, scholastic events or functions; always there no matter what the extraneous business needs.

          Note:
          This reminds me of an Asian saying:
          “In business be ever vigilant, in family be ever present”
          The first time I heard this I thought of Tom.

Tom went through a divorce which, to me, took him a very long time to recover.

As was Tom’s way, he drove on, kept digging, never losing his devotion to his children and friends and dedication to his job.

As he drove on he met a very lovely lady and her two daughters. They became enamored with one another.
Tom was rejuvenating.			Tom,Deb and the girls

Somewhere in here is where I found my best friend.

Somewhere around his 50th birthday he called me up and asked if I wanted to go for a tandem sky dive.(I don’t think he’d mind if you thought “mid life crisis”)

For some strange reason I said OK (ok, maybe I was doing a crisis of my own).

He picked me up at the home that I share with my wonderful bride and we travelled the 3 hours to his home to spend the night. The next day we travelled another 2 or 3 hours to the drop zone (DZ).

We received a (very) brief instruction period on what would happen during our skydives.

We approached the plane. It was a “tail dragger” (small plane with just enough room for the pilot and 4 jumpers). In retrospect, it looked like it was held together mostly with duct tape and prayers. We were introduced to the pilot (once again, in retrospect, I am wondering if he was old enough to vote, much less drive jumpers). We (none of the 4 of us little guys) wedged us into the aircraft and proceeded to 14,000 feet ASL.

Before we exited the aircraft, I noticed the lead jumper giving instructions to the pilot. Having more jumps now I realize that they were debating over the exit point. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best exit point, as will be described below.

Tom and his tandem master exited first followed by me and my tandem master.

After coming under canopy, we proceeded to cross over at least one shopping center, a residential area, a mall and at least one interstate before landing on a narrow strip of grass between the two runways of the small airport.

When Tom and his instructor landed they came in on their tails (butts).

At this point I yelled to my instructor “We have to have a stand up landing. (Did I mention that I was a bit taller than my instructor?).

We approached the ground and as we flared out the instructor yelled “RUN” and run I did.

We barely stood our landing up, but ran it out. I realized that the instructor’s feet were barely touching the ground (did I mention that I was a bit taller than my instructor?).

Tom and I got together and pretty much said together “We GOT to get some more of that”.

We gathered our stuff together and prepared for the 6 or 7 hour trip back to my bride.

During the trip to the DZ and back to my home, we spent the time getting to know each other. We discovered that I had a lot of Tom in me and vice versa. We had some of the same habits. Slept in the same positions, had some of the same outlooks on life and had similar perspectives on how to stand up for and help friends.

This was the start of a most wonderful friendship.

During the next few months we would meet at a different DZ for skydiving instruction (AFF). Our goal was to do a jump together. This, unfortunately, never happened.

          Note:           During the first jumps of AFF program, you wear a radio though which an instructor on the ground guides you once under canopy.

On Tom’s first jump, to save battery, the instructor turned the radio off to save battery. Unfortunately, they forgot to turn it back on.

Once under canopy, the instructor told Tom to turn right.

As it happens Tom was doing his function check and was turning right at that time. When the instructor gave his next command, Tom didn’t do as instructed since he couldn’t hear.

By this time, Tom had realized that the radio was not working and, since he had a little flight training, decided to do a normal approach.

We watched as Tom came in and went, shall we say, a bit long on the landing but did a very respectable job (I would have needed clean underwear).

Usually we were always together when we were at the DZ.

Skydiving pictures

When jumpers are leaving the aircraft there is usually an announcement to the spectators that “Jumpers are leaving the aircraft”.
9:01 AM 1/13/2009 On our graduation jump from AFF, as my bride and Tom’s new fiancé were watching, the announcement was: ” The jumpers are out……………………. The Riffe brothers have left the aircraft”

          Note:
          We always joked that if the first one of us burned in (chute didn’t open) the second
          one had to burn in too, ‘cause neither one of us wanted to have to explain it to
          momma.

Over the next year or so we did several jumps but never got our license so we could jump together.

Life now steps in the way and the jumping is less and less frequent.

It was a cold February when I got the call from Tom that mom was in the hospital and the doctors wanted the family there.

The next few weeks were hard on the whole family as we watched our mother slowly sink. We took turns standing vigil during the night. We all leaned on each other. I especially drew from Tom’s strength.

Dad’s birthday passed, Valentine’s Day passed (I still believe she was waiting so she would not pass on those days) and on the following Monday morning, Tom, who was on the night shift, called to let us know that it was over. We met Tom, dad and Beckie at the hospital and said goodbye to our mother.

The following months were hectic for both of us. Time and money came between us and jumping.

Life…family……work.

As 2008 rolled over to 2009 I commented that I would be glad when this year was gone. 2009 would have to be better.

Then that Thursday morning, January 8th, I get the voicemail on my cell at work from dad (when this started there WAS no voice mail)…… “Call me this is very, very, very important” .

I called.

Of all the people I thought it would be about, I never thought it would be about Tom.

I actually considered calling Tom before calling dad.

I called and dad gave me the news …………… Tom had used his .357 on himself.

My heart sank.

I went into shock

I actually fell to my knees.

I cursed God.

I cursed Tom.

I cursed myself.

I couldn’t believe it …….

We met, we comforted, and we tried to understand.

There was no understanding

Tom was a planner, meticulous, thorough.

Tom left specific instructions, documentation, consolation, and apologies for things that needed no apology.

He committed the act at work, in the early morning, so his family wouldn’t have to find him. He situated himself to keep mess to a minimum.

From the notes he left, for some personal reason he had been planning this.

It had nothing to do with work.

It had nothing to do with other people.

It was personal.

It was individual.

He had thought it through.

For me, he thought it was the best thing to do ………. I accept his decision.

He lived life on his terms and ended it the same way. He should have been a cowboy.

I will surely miss you, brother, I love you more than you could have known.

Sorry I didn’t tell you that more often.

My bride will miss those big bear hugs.

I will always feel you with me.